


You Could Not Survive Separation.

by JadeOpalAmber



Series: Of Fanciful Men. [1]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: If the tags are inaccurate or incorrect feel free to tell me, M/M, Mentions of Blood, Mentions of Drowning, Mentions of Injuries, Post-Fall (Hannibal), Potential trigger warning:, or Contains description of drowning, or Potential content warning:
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:07:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28319463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JadeOpalAmber/pseuds/JadeOpalAmber
Summary: The waves, the waves, the waves beat against the cliff beneath them in a rhythm like manner. Thump, thump, thump. Almost like his heart as they embrace, as they fall into its welcoming arms. They won't survive this, no-- he won't survive this.
Relationships: Will Graham & Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Series: Of Fanciful Men. [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2080812
Comments: 5
Kudos: 15





	You Could Not Survive Separation.

**Author's Note:**

> Incredibly intimidating to write for this fandom, exactly because I feel inadequate to do so with my lack of knowledge on a lot of things. 
> 
> A shitty take on events, by a shitty author lmao.
> 
> Again, just in case, there are many potential trigger warnings or content warnings in this fic. Please heed the tags, and do tell me if they are inaccurate/incorrect. Thank you.

The waves beating against him, like a heart thumping as hard as possible to keep itself alive — like them, who have free fallen into the unrelenting jaws of the sea beneath. Plunged into it its accepting arms like fallen angels falling, falling, falling. The cold seeps through his clothes, and the rapidly declining warmth of the body against him is the only thing his mind clings onto to stay awake. It's slipping, slipping away like sands on someone's greedy palm, and instantly he knew. Will needs help as soon as possible or he will die.

When they were falling, after what might be the most gentle and soul-baring embrace so far, into the ocean, he had logically assumed that he would be taking the brunt of the fall. Indeed, the moment he hit the sea, it was as if his entire back was on fire and he was certain many bones were broken into shards, possibly poking into his organs inside. Now though, after getting slapped repeatedly by the gruesome waves of the ocean, he realises that Will's injuries seem to be worse than he initially had thought. Mustering up all the strength he could, he attempted to redirect them upwards, to break the surface of the sea, in order to attempt to gather his bearings and find out which direction he should swim to reach shore. Will (for all his injury and rapidly declining body heat) is somehow though, able to keep a tight grip on him. Upon sensing his attention, his grip had managed to somehow tighten even more and finally, finally, Hannibal understood what he was trying to do. Will was trying to weigh him down into the ocean floor. In any other situation, he might have been amused at Will's conviction to kill them both — to kill him. Especially after so many months of hesitation, and reaching out to him with seemingly no clear goal in mind. This. This is the moment he decided to kill him, and with himself too. (In another situation, Hannibal might have felt this gesture to be quite a romantic one.) He will not allow it though. Although he was glad that he managed to see Will's transformation for himself, right in front of him, it had only been a moment. And Will deserved more than moments. He wants to see the transformation more, in its complete picture, see how it will affect Will everyday, affect him. _Not_ _enough. It was not enough._ So he in turn, tightens his grip around Will's waist and the determination and adrenaline in him races to give him the strength to swim to the surface.

By the time he was halfway there, the iron grip on him had slackened, and his weight lessoned. Allowing him to move his body exactly the way he predicts it should when a barely conscious human being of a slightly leaner, and shorter build is clinging onto him. By the time the both of them were no longer fully submerged and getting tossed around by the sea, Will's condition had worsened significantly, to the point that he was worried there was not enough time. The logical part of him though, the confident, human skin-suit part of him though, denied that thought vehemently. Both himself and Will were, after all, above the rest of 'humankind', and they had both survived and powered through so much more. Falling _here_ , giving in _here_ , seemed ridiculous — a joke. Will's legs are no longer tangled with his, in an attempt to drown Hannibal with him by weighing him down in a Koala hug, and are instead relaxed enough for the waves to push and pull them; which prompts Hannibal to grip onto his waist in an even tighter grip. At this point, Will's skin was deadly pale, his eyes were threatening to close any second now and his lips were trembling. The blood loss from the fight with the Red Dragon earlier was starting to really be an issue, when combined with the potential hypothermia. He knows he needs to get Will to shore now, his breathing was slowing and his body has barely any co-ordination or movement anymore.

So, he surges, aided by the muscle memory of all those time swimming laps in the pool to keep himself fit and ready for any situation combined with the memory of all those breathing exercises he had learnt for this very purpose. He had all the chess pieces for him at his disposal, prepared even for this unforeseen outcome of an unexpected move by his opponent, friend, equal. Yet it still seemed that all the odds were against him, because he could feel Will's fingers loosening, no longer clinging onto his shirt, could feel his body warmth vanish into nothing. He's so focused on the sight of the shore, so focused on getting the both of them to that said shore that when ice cold fingers touch his face, he's shocked enough that he audibly gasps. He looks at Will inquisitively — and for once regrets so many things at once, but stops promptly because _Hannibal does not regret_ — but does not stop his struggle to get them to shore still until those cold fingers press themselves into his cheek once more in a more firm manner. "Will?" His voice is hoarse, and tired but he knows the both of them wouldn't care about that. Now, Will tangles his legs with his once more, and musters up what little strength he can to stay that way in order to have both hands unoccupied. They press into his cheek firmly, and for once, for once, Hannibal is staring straight into Will's eyes without any barrier or subtle looking away from Will. He can see that Will's eyes are roaming around his face — as if committing his face to memory. "Will?" If his voice is tinged with worry and perhaps, even desperation, Will doesn't acknowledge it or poke inquisitively at the weakness Hannibal accidentally exposes. He doesn't because he can't. And Hannibal knows exactly what is going on. He's seen it in the surgery rooms, he's seen it before they even make it into the room.

Will is dead, and his body is limp in his hold. Briefly he's lost, the loss of Will feels like a limb being cut off, feels like what a TV show character with a mental connection to someone else would feel when its severed, and he doesn't know how much time has passed in his contemplation on his feelings. He briefly recalls the few seconds before Will dies. "Live." He said. With all his heart and strength, he utters those words to him. Fully knowing that in the opposite situation, if Will was him right now, he would not hesitate to follow. As if Hannibal would not do the same. "No, dear Will. I follow." He raises his arm up and embraces Will fully, resting his head against his mop of curls and letting all the strength in his body seep out.

_Live together, or die together. There is no other option. They would not be able to survive another separation._

In another place, in a fancy two-story home, Bedelia du Merier is sipping wine, waiting for death to come knocking as she sits obediently like sheep waiting to be slaughtered at her dinner table. Her leg isn't sawed off and served to her, the decorations on the dinner table are not quite the same. She is relieved and concerned when no one comes knocking on her door for days. In another place, the FBI and Jack Crawford finally manage to track down the house they were living in, finding the body of the Red Dragon as expected but unable to find their bodies. The sequence of events thought to be the truth by the FBI (but not Jack Crawford) and the public are so far from the truth, it's amusing. And if years later, when all surviving members of this story from the start to the beginning are no longer alive, years later, they find two skeletons roughly in an embracing position (bound by plants and much more growing on the pair) no one is able to fully uncover the truth.

_Live together, or die together. There is no other option. They would not be able to survive another separation._

**Author's Note:**

> I will regret posting this when morning comes, adafhaihfieoqhiio. My writing is shit.
> 
> EDIT: Summary changed! And a huge thank you for reading/giving kudos/commenting!
> 
> EDIT 2: OH MY GOD, SOMEHOW NOT EVERYTHING WAS COPIED AND PASTED PROPERLY INTO AO3 AND THE FIC WAS INCOMPLETE, I AM GOING TO DIE. THIS IS SO-- FWUEQGEKWJQJKEWW


End file.
